Fortunate Diversions
by campbelldavies
Summary: When Darcy overhears a private conversation between Elizabeth and Jane, will he be able to overcome the bad impression that he left with the woman who has bewitched him? Or will Wickham's presence in Meryton destroy what chance he has?
1. Chapter 1

Bennet. The name was a plague upon Netherfield Hall. To Darcy's mind, the whole damn county would do quite well without such a formidable army of daughters so keen to tittering and giggling.

He stared out of the window of the dining room and winced at the scrape of utensils on his dear friend Bingley's china. Then there was the mother. Not one sensible thought rested in that vapid head of hers. Darcy stared harder at the glass, hoping that the incessant wails of happiness from Mrs. Bennet to the half-empty room would soon cease. Especially given that her mouth was full.

The same could not be ascribed to the two eldest sisters, of course. Darcy could not assign to them the same insensible, tasteless characteristics that could be laid at the feet of their relations. The eldest Miss Bennet, soon-to-be Mrs. Bingley in two months, could only be characterized as a kind, if reserved woman. Miss Bennet had barely recovered from her illness before Bingley had sprung the question to her, and she gladly accepted. Whether her affections for Mr. Darcy's dearest friend were sincere, he knew not; however, he did know that the lady held him in great regard, and they would be happy together. As someone who had earned wealth through trade, the marriage to a daughter of a gentleman—no matter how poor, lackadaisical, or indifferent Mr. Bennet appeared—would only put Mr. Bingley higher in regard in the social orders.

On the other hand, their marriage in two months meant that Mr. Darcy would have to suffer not only the Bennet family for the foreseeable future, but their second eldest daughter as well.

His hands, gripped behind his back, tightened into fists.

Miss Elizabeth Bennet. Despite her fair eyes and the flush of her cheeks after healthy exercise, the woman sought to be a pain in Darcy's backside.

 _"I cannot fathom what cruel acts I must have performed upon your person to receive such a gloomy glare for half the night, Mr. Darcy."_

Of course Darcy had stared the night before. Her dress, though a plain white and adorned with a simple ribbon that contrasted nicely with the ribbons that festooned the dresses of her younger sisters, had been cut in the style of three seasons ago. It was a lower cut that accentuated her sharp collarbone and a pale décolletage. Darcy had overheard the tittering of Miss Bingley and Mrs. Hurst about the newest trends of higher necklines and lace; Miss Bennet, if she heard, had ignored it as she sat diagonally from Darcy and across from Colonel Fitzwilliam.

Then, damn him, Fitzwilliam would not cease speaking to her. They had spent half of the night speaking of the places Fitzwilliam had been to during his honor of service. While they had maintained a respectable distance from each other when they retired to the drawing room to their enjoyment of the night, Darcy had found himself drawn nearer to their conversation and had heard more laughter from Miss Bennet than he had expected. Fitzwilliam, though an intelligent and well-spoken man, did not have the same caliber of wit as Miss Bennet, and Darcy barely understood why she would be interested in hearing tales of foreign countries when to his knowledge Miss Bennet had never ventured further afield than London.

When Darcy had interjected their conversation with the same thought, Miss Bennet had risen that sharp brow and re-introduced him to her ever-sharp tongue. "Though I may lack in the desire to visit such countries in a time of war, I do find myself curious as to the foreign cultures that must exist in these places. Do you believe that a person needs to have traveled extensively before they can be curious about the world beyond their own?"

"Surely a secondhand retelling cannot provide the adequate satisfaction of such curiosity."

Her laughter had echoed through the hall. "Mr. Darcy, it comforts me to know that you still disapprove of my notions of entertainment."

He smiled back. "Forgive me, Miss Bennet, I did not realize I expressed any sort of disapproval of your activities."

"It is your disapproving eye, not your tongue, that offers such. Just as now, when you gave us a very satirical glance before you approached."

"I assure you," Colonel Fitzwilliam said, interrupting their stare, "my cousin means no censure of our topic of conversation. Though he enjoys his estate in Derbyshire greatest of all, Mr. Darcy has recommended to me more than once that travel is a great pleasure to him."

"I admit as such," he allowed. "Though I do not go abroad as you do."

Miss Bingley had come upon the small party without Darcy's awareness, and interjected with glee, "Mr. Darcy is a wonderful traveler and has told us many of his recollections about his journeys across the country on his important business. Oh, what fond memories I have of seeing the sights outside of town. Miss Bennet, you must have an amusing story of your own?"

"I confess I do not," she replied demurely, removing her gaze from Darcy to Miss Bingley. "I am looking forward to a tour of the Lakes with my Aunt and Uncle Gardiner in the next year. I am quite happy with the arrangement."

"These are your charming relatives from Cheapside that your sister has told us about?" Miss Bingley slid a cat-eye smile toward Darcy, who said nothing.

Darcy had quit the room then, a strange, unwanted feeling in his soul as he looked upon the amused smile of Miss Bennet at Miss Bingley's machinations. His dour countenance as he crossed to the door had made Miss Bingley, determined to keep him in her presence, step back with a half-finished exclamation. Muttering apologies for his headache, he had ascended to his room and straight to bed.

Damn Bingley's love for the one woman in Hertfordshire with such an abominable, pretty sister! Darcy had been unable to make himself undress for bed, and paced about his room for some employment. Elizabeth Bennet was beneath him in station with no connections and very little to recommend her. But he could not remove from his mind the idea of her laughter echoing in the rooms of Pemberley, admiring those eyes over meals every day, and more. So much more. It had become ungentlemanly how many of his thoughts of Miss Bennet made him blush.

Eventually, growing tired of his pacing, he sat and wondered what had upset him so in the conversation. He couldn't pinpoint a place where the conversation had taken a wrong turn. All he could remember was his gut twisting as he saw Elizabeth's smile and a deep-seated knowledge that his affection had gone too far for his own good.

A diversion. That was what he needed. A book would calm him and interest his busy mind that was ill-employed with thoughts of Elizabeth Bennet. The books he had brought with him to Netherfield Hall did not interest him, and so thus unsatisfied he made his way to the library.

He heard laughter from inside the drawing room as he passed, and thanked the God Almighty that he could pass the closed doors unmolested by Bingley or, even worse, Miss Bingley. The Bennets were being hosted overnight after the celebratory family dinner, and thus the Bennet family lingered. Through the walls he could hear Mrs. Bennet's rapturous talk of the bounties that Netherfield Hall would provide for her Jane—not to mention throw her other daughters in the paths of rich men—and he entreated his legs to move faster.

He slipped into the library, ensuring the door latched quietly behind him and attracted no attention. When he turned from the door, he locked eyes with Elizabeth. A quick glance told him that no one else occupied the room.

He bowed. "I apologize, Miss Bennet. I will make my leave."

"You do not have to leave on my account, Mr. Darcy. I will return to my room shortly."

Did she wish to be in his presence, without a chaperone? Darcy's heart thumped with the possibility of her affection as he straightened. Of course, he had known it would be so were he to admit his own feelings—his position was greater than hers and it was only right for her to hold him in high regard—but there had been a sliver of fear around his heart that had wondered if Miss Bennet's spry wit and sharp words had hidden a dislike for him.

It appeared not, he observed, as she bent her head back to the book in her hands. The candle set precariously on the bookshelf beside her shoulder provided enough light for her to read without squinting.

"Do you always read your books while standing?" he asked, strolling to the far side of the room.

"Only when I am choosing one before bed," she said tartly.

"To bed so soon?" he inquired.

"I could ask the same of you." He looked up to find her gaze on him, a sly smile on her lips. The twinkle of laughter in her brown eyes made him start. "Miss Bingley was most concerned about your fit of illness, Mr. Darcy."

"Miss Bingley suffers continual concern for my self," Darcy replied. As I do you, his mind supplied. Darcy stomped on the thought and returned his attention to the far bookcase which unfortunately held some of the worst sermons he had ever read. The bookcase near Miss Bennet, however, contained a volume of the local fauna within the county that had piqued his interest when he discovered it last week. Drawing closer, he found his gaze going not to the bookcase for this particular book, but to the cover of the book Elizabeth held open in front of her.

"If you wish to read philosophers, I can recommend several. That one, I am afraid, would not suit your love for artistic expression."

Blinking at him, Elizabeth . "Whatever gave you an idea that I value artistic expression over logic and clear thinking?"

"Perhaps I am mistaken. I merely remember how you played at Lucas Lodge." He remembered how, though not practiced or plainly talented, her playful and happy countenance had made the music enjoyable and quite pleasing especially compared to her younger sister's studied skill but forbidding nature. "You played quite well."

Her mouth lifted in a quiet smile and she looked down.

"Do you disagree?" he asked, finding himself moving closer.

A blush dappled her cheeks and she kept her eyes on her book. "Yes, I do, sir. I am not very good at fingering, nor do I show the dexterity as others do. I also do not practice as much as I should, which is an unattractive quality in an accomplished pianist."

His lips quirked into a half-smile. "I must disagree with you, Miss Bennet."

He found himself closer to her than he expected. Close enough to smell the rosewater and lemon from her hair. He swallowed. He had never encountered a woman as bewitching as Miss Bennet.

She noticed his nearness and rose an arch eyebrow. "I cannot fathom what cruel acts I must have performed upon your person to receive such a gloomy glare for half the night, Mr. Darcy, and now you stand over me most alarmingly."

She raised her chin, an endearing display of challenge in her sparkling eyes, and Darcy wished nothing more than to run his fingers over her exposed collarbone.

He resisted, if barely, and spun around to face the bookcase. "I am sorry to disturb you, Miss Bennet. I have found the book I wish to retire with. Goodnight."

As the door closed behind him, he heard her shocked laugh. He gritted his teeth and climbed the steps to the first floor two at a time holding the wrong book. The woman must have seen how close he had come to cracking and laughed at him to show that she knew she had him within her grasp. Many families had tried to capture Darcy's hand for their daughters. Darcy had been able to outmaneuver them at every turn.

This time, he feared, he could not. The Bennets had won Bingley, and their second eldest was in danger of winning his heart. If she was a worse woman, she could have trapped him within the library.

If I were a worse man, I could have trapped her.

His heart still hammered at the thought of what it would take to compromise a daughter of a gentleman. Not much—however, his imagination journeyed down paths that led him to press her against the bookcase and feeling her pleasing figure against his own. How she would giggle and sigh as he tickled her neck with his lips. How her skin would feel soft and warm under the back of his hand. He had gone to sleep and fought a war with his comforter, sweating and pale as he dreamed of things that could have been.

Now, Darcy clenched his fists as he stood at the window, his sleep the night before interrupted hourly as he woke up to Miss Bennet's name on his lips. He saw no possible path where his esteem and regard for Miss Elizabeth Bennet would decline. He loved her completely, despite himself.

"Where is Elizabeth, Jane? We are supposed to return to Longbourn in half an hour and she is not here."

Jane Bennet managed to break away from her conversation with Bingley. "Her trunk was in the hall, mama. She expressed a desire to walk this morning."

Darcy started. All of this time he had wasted waiting for the woman, and she had already breakfasted and left for a walk!

Ten steps took him to the door before he had decided to find her. As the door closed, he heard Mrs. Bennet's shocked cry of, "What a disagreeable man! He has stood by the window without a word for an hour!"


	2. Chapter 2

Darcy strode across the lawn toward the manicured gardens. Just over the edge of the hedge, he could see a dark head of hair. He drew in a long breath and released it. Today, he would confess his feelings. By the time Netherfield held the ball Bingley had promised the youngest Bennet girl, they would be a month engaged.

The tinkle of the fountain grew louder to his ears as he approached. He turned the corner of the hedge, his gaze going straight to… Colonel Fitzwilliam.

Darcy scowled. Richard had already turned to greet him, and there was no turning back.

"Fitzwilliam! You must be itching for a ride after the celebration dinner last night."

"A ride sounds most pleasant," Darcy agreed.

"What luck for your friend, to catch the most beautiful lady in Hertfordshire."

"Yes, he has done well for himself. Not that I am positive the match is equal to him."

Richard's mouth twitched. "From what I can tell, she is glowing with happiness. Her sister, Miss Elizabeth, seems pleased and excited about the match for her beloved sister."

"As is her family," he muttered. He looked around the garden and frowned. "What are you doing out here, Richard? I never took you to enjoy gardens without company."

Richard's smile dropped and he brought his hand to his collar in a nervous gesture Darcy had not witnessed since they were young. "I must confess, I came out to see if I could speak to Miss Elizabeth before she left for Longbourn. She has a playful character that I admit has left me quite infatuated."

Darcy frowned and thought furiously. "Your parents expect you to marry well, Richard. Miss Elizabeth, though a daughter of a gentleman, is not what they have in mind for you."

Richard grimaced and looked down. "I am well aware of what my parents expect, and you are right, of course," he said with a sigh. "But she is exceptionally pretty, do you not think?"

His eye was on Darcy now, and it was Darcy's turn to fidget. "She is pleasing to the eye."

"Oh ho!" Richard grinned. "You do like the lady, then. I thought so, after last night. You have never paid a woman that much attention before. Have you made your feelings known to her?"

Darcy stared. "Why would you ask that after—"

"I wanted your confession," Richard said with an unrepentant smile. "You may not have said what you feel, but it is plain upon your face. Now, come on, man, tell me! I am all agog to how this must have played out for you."

He scowled. "You seek to ridicule my feelings."

Richard stepped forward and slapped him on the chest with the back of his hand. "Don't think ill of me like that, and do not ruin my teasing with your scowl. I am delighted for you to have fallen for such an engaging, lovely woman."

Darcy turned his face away, a reluctant smile on his lips. "I admit that I was jealous of her attention to you last night."

"I saw how you reacted to her before dinner, and I admit I sought to reveal what you felt for her," Richard said. His grin lit his face. "In truth, I believed you had asked me to come here to provide my consultation for such a union. I had half a mind to steal her away after seeing how pleasant she was."

Darcy did not glare at his cousin's jest, but his face did return to a scowl. A gentleman should not tease in such a way. Worse, Darcy's stomach churned at how his cousin had seen through him so quickly. He thought he had come up with a respectable excuse for his cousin to spend a week in Netherfield with them.

"Goodbye! Goodbye, all!"

"Mr. Bingley, we so look forward to the ball!"

Giggling chatter floated to their ears and Darcy's heart gave a jump. Distracted as he had been by Richard, he had not returned to his search for Elizabeth and now his chance had slipped away. Darcy and Richard walked toward the lawn, and Darcy was just in time to see Miss Bennet's bonnet disappear into the second carriage.

"Blast," he muttered.

"Poor Darcy." Colonel Fitzwilliam slapped his shoulder. "You must call on her, and soon. I understand from our Lady deBourgh that a cousin of theirs is visiting soon to offer marriage to one of the eligible daughters. The parson that she speaks of in her letters?"

"Hmm," Darcy said as he watched the carriages depart down the lane. He remembered the letters describing the serious-minded parson. With Jane spoken for, Elizabeth would be the likely choice as the prettiest and most well-mannered sister.

"I will ride to Longbourn tomorrow," he told Richard.

"Good man. Now. Let us go for a ride, and you shall tell me how you have fallen for Miss Elizabeth."

They started toward the stables. Darcy's stride picked up at his anticipation for having Elizabeth Bennet's hand by tomorrow afternoon. "It began with a country assembly…"

Darcy could hardly stand still for his man to dress him the next morning. He ensured that he wore his finest, and held his head high as he observed the choice in the mirror in his bedroom. Soon, Elizabeth Bennet would be his betrothed, and his heart knew the heaviness of joy.

He had to admit, at least in the inner sanctuary of his mind, that he wasn't positive how his proposal would turn out. His hands shook as he broke his fast and Miss Bingley and Mrs. Hurst's catty chatter washed over him. Miss Bingley spoke long of the faults of the Bennet family and only expressed pleasure at Jane Bennet's addition to the family when Bingley glowered at her.

"Darcy, you look rather dour this morning," Bingley commented to change the subject.

"You are right, brother. Mr. Darcy, do you find yourself quite recovered from your spell last night?"

"I am well enough," Darcy managed. He changed the topic quickly. "Today would be a good day for shooting. The Colonel and I witnessed several fat birds waiting for our enjoyment yesterday."

Mr. Hurst was convinced, and spoke long about his desire to shoot, and his wife on what meals they could schedule if they brought back enough hens and rabbits. Finding his ploy effective, he settled back, satisfied, and only smirked when he found Colonel Fitzwilliam smiling at him.

"Poor Miss Eliza," Miss Bingley lamented near the end of breakfast as the men discussed where they would begin the shoot that day. Her amused eyes scanned the room and finally settled on Darcy. "She is a nice young lady, though she has a certain conceited independence about her. Her dress…" She drew off with a cluck of her tongue. Mrs. Hurst shared her giggle.

"Miss Eliza makes up for her lack of fashionable taste with a pair of fine eyes," Miss Bingley teased.

"I thought Miss Elizabeth looked handsome, as always," Bingley declared in a jovial tone that hid an exasperation for the antics of his sisters. He threw his napkin on his plate, his chair screeching as he stood. "Meet on the lawn when we are dressed, gentleman? I will go see that the dogs are readied."

He strode out of the room, his normal genial smile replaced with firm lips. Darcy watched him go, impressed. He should have handled his sisters long before, of course, but his gentle nature prevented such an event. It seemed the support of Jane Bennet had changed the man for the better.

 _Or perhaps it is nerves,_ he considered. Darcy made a note to speak to Charles when he had a chance. Perhaps this afternoon, after his talk with Elizabeth, he could address whatever tumult lay in Bingley's mind. Not a minute went by before Darcy finished his meal and quit the room.

Charles expressed his shock when Darcy stated that he had no intention of going on the shoot, claiming his surprise that Darcy had been the person to suggest it at breakfast, after all. Darcy gave his excuses and promised to say more when he returned.

"Returned from where?" Bingley cried.

"Longbourn," Darcy answered, and seeing the surprise on Charles's face.

Charles knew of his dislike for the Bennets as well for Meryton. His eyebrows were nearly to his hairline. "Whatever for?"

"I have many errands to see to before I return to London. I may as well call upon the Bennet family while I am out," he said shortly. He bowed and left the kennel quickly before Charles could ask more of him. His horse, word given the night before, was ready for him in the stables. But upon looking at the clear sky, he decided against riding to Longbourn, and set out on foot. Like his future wife, he did not turn his nose at a good walk in pleasurable weather, and the walk would give him sufficient time to distract his nervous mind.

When he came upon Longbourn, he was surprised and a little unsettled at hearing Elizabeth's voice so close at hand. He looked for the sound of her voice, and found it growing louder as he approached the hedge of the side garden. From many visits to Longbourn with Charles for Charles to visit with his fiancé and her family and for Darcy to revel in Elizabeth's presence, he knew that Elizabeth must be sitting beside the hedge on a decorously arranged bench. Jane responded to whatever her sister said, and Darcy froze when he heard the topic of what he knew now was a sensitive conversation.

"Lizzy, you have always been so severe on the men in Meryton. They are not as well-rounded as we, certainly, but many of them have a pleasant manner that makes them—"

"Quite dull," Elizabeth said. After a second, Jane joined her giggle with a quiet laugh of her own.

"It seems you cannot be reasoned with today!" There was a pleasant silence between the two, a companionship that made Darcy's heart ache. Elizabeth would be as good a sister to Georgiana, he was sure, and help her come out of her shell. Then his heart leaped and his attention returned to the conversation when he heard his name.

"What about Mr. Darcy? Every time Charles visits, he has Darcy at his side. You, Lizzy, cannot pretend that you do not purposefully attract his attention when we walk with them to get out of the house. I see the way he looks at you, and I cannot believe that it is a coincidence that he visits with Charles."

"Only to keep him from interrupting _you_ , Jane, not for any particular affection. I know how much you treasure your time with my future brother-in-law. I would suffer a thousand Darcys to give you the time."

Mortification froze Darcy's face. Elizabeth's tone was in her usual jesting manner, but her words struck Darcy like a slap. The fact was made clear that Elizabeth did not hold the same regard for Darcy as he held for her. _Suffer a thousand Darcys._ He shook his head, his eyes closing.

"As for how Darcy deigns to look at me, it is truly only to find fault. The man is all politeness, but I can see it in his gaze. I do not know how I have earned his ire."

"Lizzy! Sometimes I feel you would ignore a good streak a mile wide when it comes to Mr. Darcy. I know he treated you very ill at the assembly, but I believe his feelings have changed."

That Darcy had made his feelings for Elizabeth known so that not only Colonel Fitzwilliam could see it, but that a veritable stranger could… Now that he knew Elizabeth's true feelings for him—and what feelings!—he regretted how obvious he had made them. Obvious to everyone except the person they were directed at.

"Let us talk no more of Mr. Darcy," Elizabeth said with finality, "I would much rather hear about your Mr. Bingley."

He heard Jane sigh. "I truly believe I am the happiest person in the world!"

"If I can feel just a quarter of your happiness in a marriage, I would be content."

"Oh, I wish you could find someone, Lizzy. I want you to feel just as I do."

"Only the deepest of love will induce me into matrimony, my Jane. What a pity Charles doesn't have a brother!"

"Jane! Lizzy! Come inside!"

"Yes, Mama!"

He straightened as he heard them walk away, and was grateful once again for his decision to come on foot. He heard them retreat from their private spot, and he walked back toward Netherfield as fast as his legs would take him.

Elizabeth did not love him. He could not see her hiding her feelings from her dearest sister upon a direct question. He had hoped for some regard, but it appeared that she did not have that for him either.

 _I know he treated you ill at the assembly…_

Jane Bennet could not mean that someone, possibly even Elizabeth herself, had overheard his ungenerous comment to Bingley? He had made the comment in an ill mood, disgusted by the lack of manners and propriety of the country dance. He had spoken thoughtlessly, without consideration to the hearing of those around him, and had regretted it at once. Those were not the manners his parents had taught him. Now it appeared his shameful words had ruined all chance at happiness with Miss Elizabeth.

He thought of the night before with a different light. Perhaps Elizabeth had not been afraid to be alone in the library with him because she was certain of his dislike. Elizabeth had stated plainly that his close presence alarmed her, quite contrary to what he had believed.

He was blind. Never in his wildest fantasies would Darcy have believed that Elizabeth felt anything other than regard for his station and his wealth. Now that he realized otherwise, Darcy was humbled and ashamed. He desired nothing more than to return to his room in Netherfield and ruminate in his failure. What Elizabeth must think of him! Looking back on their interactions with each other, he could see that disdain hid behind what he had assumed were teasing remarks. To think that she did not tell him more forcefully of her dislike, knowing what he knew of her, astounded Darcy.

Only divine intervention had saved him from humiliation and public mortification. Darcy now had a chance to reverse Elizabeth's feelings, to become the man who could provide her the happiness she deserved, and become the gentleman he had thought himself.

Face grim, he strode on.


	3. Chapter 3

"Did you lose your horse, Fitzwilliam?"

"I took the opportunity to walk." He enjoyed the surprised expression on his cousin's face as Darcy climbed the steps. The Colonel, eager to hear his story, followed Darcy as he went to the one room where they were sure not to be bothered by Bingley's sisters. As soon as he entered the study, he crossed to the closest chair and collapsed into it.

"May I now congratulate you on—"

"No." He covered his eyes with his hand. The walk back had given him too much time to go over his failures. "Though I was saved the misfortune of humiliating myself to Miss Elizabeth, her dislike and disinclination were made clear."

"What the deuce happened, Darcy?"

Darcy was just opening his mouth to tell him about the sorry affair when the door to the room opened and Bingley stepped inside. The genial smile on his face fell as he took in the two cousins. "The faces on you two! I don't know whether to slap your back or cheer you up! Whatever has happened to make you so gloomy, Darcy?"

His cousin gave Darcy a piercing gaze. "May I tell him?"

Darcy sighed. "He may as well know and he may provide advice I find myself in sore need of."

Bingley's jaw dropped as he closed the door behind him. "You, Darcy? Surely you two jest!"

"Unfortunately not, though I do not know the particulars," Colonel Fitzwilliam told Bingley. "Come sit and I shall tell you what I know and then Darcy will tell us what advice he seeks."

Darcy returned his hand to his eyes as his cousin told Bingley all that Darcy had revealed to him and what he had witnessed with his own eyes. His story was accurate, yet lacked the shame that Darcy had only found out himself that morning. He did not wish to see his friend's face, especially so after hearing his first chuckle as the Colonel related Darcy's regard for Elizabeth. When Richard had finished his tale with the morning's quest to propose to Elizabeth, Darcy lowered his hand.

Bingley's relief, astonishment, and good humor warred on his face as the silence descended. Then he burst out, "My God, Darcy! You sly devil, keeping this from your friend! In love with Miss Elizabeth—well, I say it would make a damn fine match! Excepting my Jane, she is the most handsome woman in Hertfordshire and a fine character."

"Not to insult your betrothed, Charles, but she smiles too much," Darcy said with a hint of a smile. It fell when he realized it was now his turn to tell them of what transpired. He sighed and cast his eyes down. "Miss Bennet is also a good deal kinder hearted than her sister, and allows mistakes. I am afraid that Miss Elizabeth does not have any inclination for me. Nay, she may well, but it is a negative inclination which I fully deserve. I believe she holds a grudge against me for what I said at the assembly."

Charles's face twisted in confusion, and then it cleared. "Ah," he said quietly.

"What was this foul thing you said?" Richard asked as he looked between them.

"He said"—and now Bingley's mouth twitched with mirth at his friend's plight—"that she was tolerable, but not handsome enough for him to ask her to dance. He had no... what was it, Darcy?"

Darcy resisted the urge to shrink in his chair. "Patience for women who were slighted by other men."

Charles laughed delightedly. "When there were not near enough men for the amount of ladies present and several others had to sit out as well!"

"How much time has it been since this infamous assembly? Certainly, her pride has recovered from this sting."

"Not nearly long enough," Darcy muttered. "I came upon Miss Elizabeth and her sister this morning and overheard a private conversation. She stated quite eloquently that she merely suffers my presence in order to be a good sister."

The conversation had given him relief in one area, however. Jane's declaration of her feelings for Bingley had soothed his fears that Bingley held more regard for the young lady. Knowing her equal regard, Darcy no longer feared an unhappy marriage for his dearest and oldest friend.

Colonel Fitzwilliam rubbed his chin in deep thought. "Do you have any hope that Miss Elizabeth may come around?"

"She hasn't directly turned you down, has she?"

He scowled. "Fortunately, I was able to stop myself before my ultimate embarrassment this morning."

Bingley clapped his hands together. "The ball! It is the perfect opportunity. It is only in a week's time—we can come up with a plan to win your love by then."

"A plan to win her love?" Darcy scoffed. "Charles, this is not some romantic novel both of your sisters admire. I will not descend to that level of farce. No, it is settled. I have no hope with Miss Elizabeth."

He cringed thinking it, much less stating it to two of his closest confidants. But it was the truth. His hasty words had cost Darcy his chance with the most bewitching woman of his acquaintance.

"Not to insult you, Darcy, but I believe we know the ways of love better than yourself. I, of course, have the hand of the most beautiful woman in the country, and your cousin has made merry with several of England's finest every season."

"Hey now," the Colonel said mildly. "I confess that I have courted many women, but it has been properly done. I am no seducer."

Bingley clapped Richard's shoulder. "Sorry, friend. I meant not to speak ill of you."

"I see your point," Darcy said. He paused and contemplated the hard words he would have to speak next. But speak them he did, for he had set his mind. "I have never sought to be… skilled in that area and now I dearly wish I had for then I would like to think I wouldn't be in this predicament. Do you think that, despite my ungentlemanly actions, I may still have a chance?"

"I have every confidence that we can snag Miss Elizabeth," Bingley assured him.

"But first," the Colonel said as he rose from the settee, "drinks."

Richard went to the cabinet at the back of the room and when the other two agreed, he poured for each of them. Darcy rose and stretched his legs, which felt nicely warm from his morning's exercise, and took his drink to the window. The indignity of asking his friend and cousin for help did not escape him. But Darcy had never felt this strongly for a lady before, and to learn that all this time she had lacked any design to have him for a husband only made her more special and lovely in his eyes. His determination to have such a wondrous creature for a wife grew.

"Do you think we should ask Miss Bennet for help?" Richard asked. He raised his eyebrows at the two surprised looks he received from Bingley and Darcy. "She is her sister. We may well need a gentler touch."

Bingley's eyebrows drew together and then he slowly shook his head. "Though I would dearly love her help, Jane is devoted to her sister. I fear that she would be unable to resist telling her."

Likewise, Darcy believed that Jane would be an unsuitable confidant. They needed absolute secrecy for this plan to work. Besides, his limit on providing personal details of his private life was already stretched thin. Though they were his closest friends—nearly brothers to him—Darcy had little patience in sharing the details of his private life. He normally sought his own counsel, except in matters of his sister since he shared guardianship duties with Richard, and shared only what was relevant with Richard and Charles.

"Have either of you come up with a plan yet?" Charles looked over the rim of his whiskey at them. Both shook their heads. Darcy was unable to imagine a scenario that did not make him look a fool. But perhaps a fool was needed since his insistence on being a mannerless gentleman had not worked.

"This may be a stretch," Bingley began with a reluctant air, "but perhaps you should start by telling her the truth?"

"The truth! By God, that is the worst idea," exclaimed Richard. He made an abrupt, disgusted noise. "Put himself into the hands of a woman known to dislike him? It is unthinkable!"

Darcy's frown was severe. "I am here because the truth would only make her think I was teasing her or acting in some other cruel manner. She would not accept it."

Bingley sighed. "Perhaps a letter of your affection?"

"You _have_ been reading too many of your sisters' novels," Richard said. "No, what we need is a situation that puts Darcy front and center, a situation that allows him to show off how gallant and lovable he is while also showing Miss Elizabeth his feelings for her."

Charles rolled his eyes. "As if that is more plausible than a letter."

A knock upon the door interrupted their conversation and their heads turned as one as the door opened and Caroline Bingley peeked inside the study. Her eyes lit when she saw Darcy, something he was still trying not to address.

"You three have been holed up here for a long time," she said as she stepped into the room. "And such dreadful expressions! One might think you are plotting something wicked."

Darcy finished his drink and set his glass down on the desk. "I must finish a letter. Charles, call for me when you are ready to go to Longbourn."

"Are you—" Bingley cut himself off when he caught sight of Darcy's expression. He coughed to hide his misstep and turned away from his sister as she stepped forward in concern, his face reddening.

Richard took his lead and made his excuses. They traveled up the stairs to the first floor in a thoughtful silence. At the top of the stairs where they had to separate for their respective rooms, Richard clapped Darcy on the shoulder.

"We will think of something," he said. "Until then, cousin, try not to be yourself. It clearly got you into this mess."

Laughing at his own wit as Darcy scowled at his back, Richard departed for his rooms. Darcy strode quickly down the hall to his own. He needed to refresh his toilette after the morning exercise and then he needed to think about what he could do to correct his situation with Miss Elizabeth.

He would win her to his side. However, the task of winning her seemed to be beyond the advice of even Richard and Charles. With grim silence, he started to plan.


	4. Chapter 4

**AN:** _Thank you, thank you, thank you to everyone who has so kindly commented! Due to the advice of a friend, I've published this on Amazon since she said there's a lot of interest in it! I'm definitely going to finish posting it here, though I may take it down soon after the last chapter is published in case of plagiarism. I've read every single comment and I'm so grateful that_ JAFF _readers are such awesome,_ knowledgable _folks!_

They rode to Longbourn early afternoon. Colonel Fitzwilliam rode with them with plans to separate at Longbourn and continue on to explore the countryside. The Colonel and Bingley were becoming fast friends at Darcy's expense as they laughed and chatted about Darcy's poor prospects and what they needed to do to improve them. Darcy remained quiet. He'd had an idea while in his room, Richard's teasing words on his mind. _Be not who you are._

Darcy's shyness had never negatively affected him in this manner before. Those people in society who thought him a proud, uneasy fellow were easily ignored as his fortune came into the conversation. Having grown up to walk into rooms and hear the sudden cease of murmurings and find a half dozen genteel gazes upon his person, Darcy had hidden behind his shyness to avoid the unwanted attention of fortune hunters.

Darcy no longer wanted to be shy with Miss Elizabeth. More than anything, he wanted to wrap her in his arms and kiss her until she forgot her playful manner entirely. If his shyness—not to mention his _pride_ —had lost him a chance at happiness, today he would endeavor to correct himself going forward. He would insist, mind and body, not to be the gentleman who had spoken in such a crass manner at a public assembly, no matter how many people there were beneath his notice in rank and station. He would seek to be a gentleman of a different sort.

Miss Bennet and Miss Elizabeth were in the yard picking flowers when the three men rode up the drive. Miss Elizabeth wore a fetching pale blue dress and blushed prettily as she looked up to see him watching.

"Good day," cried Bingley as he swung down from his horse. Darcy followed suit, his boots hitting the gravel with a satisfying crunch. Bingley continued, "The two prettiest sisters in Hertfordshire. Miss Bennet. Miss Elizabeth."

Introductions made, the Colonel stated that he would be on his way. Darcy couldn't help but look at Miss Elizabeth to see if she felt negatively by the Colonel's absence and could tell nothing from her face. Though Richard had assured him that he meant not to become a nuisance to his potential relationship with Miss Elizabeth, Darcy found that it was not so easy as that to forget his jealousy.

"Pardon me, Colonel, if you have important plans, but you are more than welcome to stay for lunch," Jane said. "Mama has ordered more than enough for our spread this afternoon."

"You are very kind," the Colonel said with a tip of his hat, "but I must go to Meryton after this. Mister Darcy's sister, my cousin, is expecting a birthday gift soon and I have neglected my guardian duties most egregiously."

Darcy started at this. Richard had more than enough time to pick out Georgiana's present. Her birthday was more than two months away. However, it would not be right to question his cousin in front of their acquaintances, so Darcy merely furrowed his brow and turned his head away. With the movement, he found Elizabeth watching him with a queer half-smile.

"Our cousin arrived today and the house is in a state of excitement," Jane warned the men.

"This is your cousin the parson?" asked Bingley.

"Yes, and he is an interesting character." Elizabeth's expression made Darcy think that this parson fellow would be more of an amusement to Elizabeth. Considering that Elizabeth and her father had a particular sort of fondness for the simple-minded and obnoxious, Darcy did not have high hopes of meeting an individual with good sense.

The door to the house opened as they walked up the drive and Darcy's fears were confirmed when a tall, heavy-looking young man greeted them with an unctuous, self-important bow before any greetings were made by the sisters.

"I am esteemed to meet the great nephew of my patroness Lady Catherine de Bourgh of Rosings," he told the gravel beneath his feet. "I humbly and profusely apologize upon not seeking you out first thing this morning upon hearing of your presence in Hertfordshire to tell you the news you undoubtedly would like to hear about the state of your most generous aunt."

"What aunt would that be again?" he heard Elizabeth whisper behind him, and then an aborted giggle.

Gritting his teeth at the rude display by Mr. Collins and his desire to turn his back on the man, Darcy waited for the man to straighten and gave a short bow. "You filled the vacancy at the Hunsford parish, I take it?"

It was decided that he had taken the position with great joy and humility for his position. When Elizabeth slyly mentioned that he was very fortunate in his patroness the man waxed eloquent. It was only when Darcy reminded the man that no formal introduction had been made that he learned the obsequious man was named Collins and Collins made an overture of welcome to Bingley, who had been ignored so far.

There was not a second that Collins was not bowing and scraping in Darcy's presence, and not a second went by during that dreadful lunch that Darcy did not want to run out of Longbourn and straight to Pemberley. He gave credit to Jane and Elizabeth for attempting to release him from his mortification of their relative's poor manners; however, they did not prevail and Mr. Collins waxed eloquent on the furnishings of Rosings, Lady Catherine's generosity of spirit and the grace of deigning to look upon his little house next to Rosings Park, and her daughter Anne's carriage rides past his humble abode. Even Mr. Bennet's amused gaze had grown flat as the end of the meal approached at Mr. Collins's display of humble servitude, and finally, Mr. Bennet ordered his eldest daughters to take their visitors from Netherfield away from the house. Mrs. Bennet, seeing that Collins intended to follow the foursome and what that might mean for her eldest's match with Mr. Bingley, whose gentle manner had been replaced with a frown, successfully endeavored to entertain the bumbling parson with help from her remaining daughters.

"I say! What a…" Bingley said as they walked in an awkward silence from the house. He caught Darcy's expression and ducked his head.

"That, gentlemen, is the future heir of Longbourn," Elizabeth pronounced gravely. She saw their expressions and pressed her lips together in a grimace of a smile. "I do not jest, unfortunately. It is in keeping with the entail."

Darcy frowned. "One could ignore the lack of manners if he wasn't such a twit."

Jane and Elizabeth both burst out into giggles, their expressions shocked as they sought to cover their mouths. Darcy relished the attention that Elizabeth gave to him, delighted that he had managed to take a step around her dislike of him. Perhaps he had been mistaken? Perhaps she had spoken those words out of hurt and not dislike?

Darcy returned to thoughtful silence as Charles and Jane decided they would walk around the garden. As was customary, Darcy and Elizabeth lagged behind the betrothed couple out of hearing distance. He offered Elizabeth his arm and his throat contracted as she took it, jogging him from his thoughtful silence.

They had walked around the house twice before Elizabeth spoke. "Forgive me, but I noticed you had a perplexed face after Colonel Fitzwilliam mentioned a birthday present for your sister. May I ask… have you had trouble finding her a present yourself?"

He looked down at her. He intended to tell her that he had plenty of time to make such a purchase. However, seeing only curiosity in her eyes, without scorn or judgment, and remembering what Colonel Fitzgerald said about being himself, Darcy reconsidered. Elizabeth took her sisters—well, one of them—seriously.

He swallowed. He hated petty lies, but if he spoke in the right way, it would not be a lie at all.

"I haven't had trouble so much as I have a difficult time finding a gift that would help her move past the discomfort I put her through this year." They walked in silence a few more steps as Darcy arranged the words in his head. "She had a… difficult year, with her companion being an unfit woman, and moving suddenly back into London society with little forewarning. I am at fault for both of these things and so the difficulty of choosing a present grows higher."

"Nay, you sound like a good brother," Elizabeth said with a soft voice. "I hear your affection for your sister in your tone and I am sure you will pick the right gift for her."

"Speaking of gifts, I have brought one for you," Darcy said. Elizabeth's dark eyes widened as he took a small volume of poetry out of his pocket and passed it to her.

"For me?" she said, opening the cover. "Wordsworth's poems about the Lake District. What a thoughtful gift."

He smiled to see the pretty flush on her cheeks that belied her calm, polite tone. "It is from my collection at Pemberley. I only hope his words can tide you over until your trip to the country, Miss Elizabeth."

Her gaze swept up to meet his as the flush grew darker on her cheeks. "Thank you, sir. I have always wanted a personal copy of this volume. Now I have no doubt that you will find the perfect gift for your sister."

And with that, it was time for Darcy to duck his head. Hope welled in his heart as Elizabeth insisted on opening to the first poem and reading in her lilting, pretty voice, _"I wandered lonely as a cloud…"_


	5. Chapter 5

In a daze, Darcy returned to Netherfield with Bingley. Elizabeth had shared some of her favorite pieces of poetry with Darcy, furthering his enlightenment of her character. Elizabeth was not the fae creature of romance and artistry that had occupied in his dreams, but a young woman of substance and knowledge. He thought back to his ill-thought commentary on her choice of philosophy and now winced with how conceited and pompous he must have sounded to her ears.

As they walked across the lawn from the stables, Darcy's mind remembering how they had sat on a bench and conversed about Wordsworth's inspiration and she asked his advice on where to visit first on her trip with her uncle and aunt Gardiner, Bingley cleared his throat.

"You have yet to say a word, Darcy. You must tell me!"

Darcy released the smile he had been withholding. "I believe Richard's advice to me was well-received by Miss Elizabeth."

"Advice? What advice?"

"To not be myself," said Darcy. "My… inability to converse easily with people I am not well-acquainted with hindered my efforts. If I didn't equip myself with some measure of the same carefree attitude that you and Richard have, I would never be acquainted with her in the way I wish."

It had been… surprisingly easy to speak with Elizabeth once they had left the topic of Georgiana, for that topic still burned hot in Darcy's gut. It would take time, possibly years, before he could speak of that topic without wanting to smash a hole through a wall with his fist.

A smile of pleasure broke out on Bingley's face as they walked up the steps to the door. "Good job, my man. I am sure we can fit in a double wedding if you hurry!"

The next day, the men had missed calling upon the two sisters as they had errands to see to in Meryton. Darcy thought to look into the other books that might tempt his Elizabeth—for she was _his_ Elizabeth in the back of his mind—into returning his admiration and love. Therefore, they rode to Meryton in good spirits and with more hope in his heart than Darcy thought he should expect after his abominable manners with the object of his eye.

Upon reaching Meryton and finishing their errands, Bingley brought up the idea of going to Longbourn to visit with the ladies. Agreed, they proceeded but within short notice, they found Miss Bennet and Miss Elizabeth standing with their sisters, Mr. Collins, and two gentlemen outside the house of Mr. and Mrs. Phillips. As Darcy pulled his horse to a stop beside the party and Bingley directed his attention to Jane, Darcy's gaze was arrested at the sight of the man standing near to Miss Elizabeth.

Wickham.

The man who had nearly ruined his sister, only fifteen years old. The man who had forsaken the favor and pride of Darcy's father and squandered his money, forced Darcy to pay off his debts in Lambton, and blackened his name forever in Darcy's heart.

Darcy found he could barely deign to touch his hat to the man. In another minute, he could breathe as they rode away from the party.

"You've gone white, Darcy," said Bingley. "Whatever is the matter?"

Darcy cleared his throat and shook his head. "Nothing. I have had a bad turn, that is all."

For four days Darcy stewed upon the villainy of Wickham. Colonel Fitzwilliam was promptly summoned on Wednesday and they sat in peace in Bingley's study and discussed at length what needed to be done. What could be done for such an infamous character?

Though Wickham was a dangerous, disreputable man, he had broken no laws in seeking to elope with Georgiana. Richard at one point recommended they make it known to not only the Bennet family but to the other families invited to the ball of Wickham's wicked reputation. Darcy forbid it out of hand, his mind going to Georgiana. If any hint came out of the scandal that Wickham's actions had nearly put her through, Darcy would be responsible for once again subjecting his sister to the cruelty of an unfair, mean world. He would not make that mistake again. Darcy hoped that Wickham would become the man their fathers had trusted, but he knew it was a foolish endeavor.

Three days of storms fit Darcy's mood. Their moods fluctuated from anger to horror at what harm Wickham must bring to Meryton with his presence. His bad spirits forbid even bringing himself to travel with Bingley and his sisters to Longbourn to invite the Bennet family to the ball.

Despite his feelings toward it, the day of the ball soon began, and Darcy's dark spirits had even entered his dreams. The dreams that had once been pleasant, if frustrating, took on a sharp edge as Wickham entered the space of his mind. That night's dream had been particularly devastating to watch and Darcy woke up not knowing if his dream was a creation of his mind or a memory.

In a foul mood, Darcy took breakfast early and went immediately to the stables to avoid any commentary made by Bingley's sisters on the state of his absence from everyone's company except his cousin. The only bright spot that day was Elizabeth's presence at the Netherfield ball that afternoon. Though Darcy knew not whether his mood would improve to the degree necessary, he hoped to ask Elizabeth for the first two dances of the night. Surely that would show her his favor and they could move into proper courting.

He took his horse out of the stable for the first nice day that week. They rode hard together over the wild fields of Hertfordshire, past farms and past ponds, until the wind made his eyes tear. Being cooped up in any place, not just Netherfield, never satisfied Darcy who would choose the outdoors over any parlor in London or the countryside.

He returned to Netherfield park with enough time for lunch, some reading to further clear his head, and then his toilette for the evening's activities.

He found Miss Bingley walking along the lane when he returned to the estate, an umbrella shielding her from the grey sky that had still not recovered from the recent storms. She hailed him with a hand raised in greeting and Darcy directed his horse toward her.

"Do you enjoy the chill in the air leftover from the rain?"

"I do, sir," she replied. "I greatly enjoy seeing you out of your discomfort of the past few days. I hope that whatever business you and your cousin had to see to is completed? It would be a sad occasion if you did not enjoy the ball Mrs. Hurst and I have planned, though I know you dislike balls in general."

Darcy tipped his hat to her. This was getting dangerously close to forcing Darcy to ask for a dance from Caroline, and he had promised the most important ones to Elizabeth in his mind.

"My business should not distract neither my cousin or me overtly tonight. Good morning, Miss Bingley," Darcy told her. He turned his horse back toward the stables and toward escape. The woman, so unlike Elizabeth, sought nothing but fame and fortune from him and the esteemed title of Mistress of Pemberley.

The rest of the afternoon after his refreshing ride over the countryside, Darcy set his mind to rights. He tidied up the thoughts of Wickham and Georgiana's near disgrace. He swept up the cobwebs of fear and loathing from being an awful brother and guardian. He wiped away all regret for the brother in all but name he had hoped to have. By the time that the first carriage pulled up to Netherfield, Darcy had locked away his untidy emotions and was dead set on further making amends to Elizabeth that night.

Tugging on his cravat, Darcy lurked out of sight of the main hall as Miss Bingley, Mr. and Mrs. Hurst, and Bingley welcomed their guests to their home. Bingley's sisters had outdone themselves with the decor, the hired music, and the prepared meal. For two women who sought to turn their noses up at the simple life that Hertfordshire and Meryton offered, they had set out to impress the simpletons they despised.

"Here you go, cousin," said Richard as he met Darcy with a whiskey. The empty hall began to fill with laughter and chatter as more people arrived.

"I underestimated how many people would be here," Darcy said and took a large gulp of his whiskey. He shuddered as it burned a fiery path down his throat.

"Have the Bennets made an appearance yet?"

"Not yet," he said.

Richard clapped him on the back. "Chin up. You have all night to make a fool of yourself."

Darcy's eye caught on a number of redcoats who had entered the hall. His blood ran cold at the sight. Richard's intelligence had told them that Wickham had joined with the regimentals stationed in Meryton for rest and training. The man could not be so bold as to come to Netherfield.

Seeing his dour expression, Richard looked into the entry. His eyes scanned the men and then he leaned back and shook his head. "It does not appear the cur is as stupid as that. Fear not, Darcy, if he shows his handsome face he is so proud of I will happily rearrange it for him."

"As a favor to him, I'm sure," Darcy said, his spirits lifted slightly.

Richard stole another glance at the entryway and the people milling by the door as they waited for the Bingleys and Mr. and Mrs. Hurst to greet their guests. His face lit up with a sly grin and he elbowed Darcy in the side.

"Look here, old man. The lady of the hour comes."

Straightening his coat, Darcy followed Richard's gaze to find Elizabeth standing beatifically beside her sisters, her gaze going everywhere as if she had never seen inside of Netherfield Park before, and looking among the guests lingering in the entry hall as if looking for someone.

 _Me?_

Clearing his throat, Darcy escaped down the end of the hall, in the opposite direction, with Richard at his heels as they emerged into the ballroom. A small party of a mixed company was gathered by the hallway door, surprising Darcy, who then had to play a memory game with himself as he introduced Richard to the couples he had met at the assembly and at Lucas Lodge.

The music drowned out the sound of his singing heart as Elizabeth entered the ballroom behind her parents and Jane. The same spark of laughter and light illuminated her dark eyes, already flashing with humor and the excitement of a ball after a dreadful week of rain.

"So?" Richard murmured to him as they escaped the hearing range of the party. "Are you going to go ask her to dance?"

His throat contracted as his gaze followed her across the room to the opposite side of where he stood with his cousin. Though a lesser man—as he had been before—would not call her a classical beauty upon first glance, she was exquisite in her taste and manner. The jewels in her hair glittered under the candlelight. Her dress showed off a pleasing, light figure, and behind her smile shone a soul that was filled with goodness and intelligence. Lovely and vivacious, everything Darcy was not, and everything he longed to have.

"I do not want to appear too excited," he said.

"Come now," Richard boomed, his voice so loud that several heads turned in their direction. Darcy ducked his head as Elizabeth looked their way. "If you don't ask her for the first two, _I_ am not shy enough to resist the temptation."

Darcy resolved to go to Elizabeth presently and his ears turned red at Richard's boisterous laughter as Darcy started across the hall. His cousin was clearly unfit for society.

Scanning the room as he made his way along the far wall, careful not to seem too eager to advance upon Elizabeth. Concern rose as she shared quiet words with first Mr. Denny and then Miss Charlotte Lucas, her face a frown with whatever she had heard from the first.

He reached Elizabeth more quickly than he expected, and the words were out of his mouth before he had framed the first syllable in his mind. He was quite surprised when Elizabeth agreed and then, with a quiet exclamation, told him that she had promised the first two dances to her cousin Mr. Collins.

The way she said it made Darcy's eyebrows draw together, but seeing as they were being observed closely by Miss Lucas, Darcy kept his thoughts to himself. "Then may I have the honor of the next two, Miss Elizabeth?"

She gave him a small curtsy, the flush on her cheeks dark and pretty. "It would be a pleasure."

With pleasure of his own coursing through his veins, Darcy proceeded back to the far end of the hall to watch and wait. But Elizabeth and Charlotte did not wait for him to quit hearing distance of their conversation before whispering.

"Do not look like that, Elizabeth. I daresay you will find him very agreeable."

He did not hear Elizabeth's reply as he walked away, but in Elizabeth's eyes he had sensed a new coldness that could only have one source.


	6. Chapter 6

**A/N:** Thank you everyone for your awesome comments. I finished editing my full-length novel _Netherfield Proposal_ and published it tonight - it should be available soon on Amazon and sometime this week with other distributors. Look me up on Amazon as Campbell Davies if you want. I also have a new website that is still under construction. It's under campbelldavies DOT com if people want to look me up. Don't scream at how ugly it looks right now!

Darcy could not fathom any reason why Elizabeth's manner toward him would change other than the very man whose presence had plagued his mind the past few days. Then when he approached Elizabeth for their dance, Darcy suspected her manners may have been affected by the presence of her cousin who had been an awkward dance partner for Elizabeth. This idea was formed when he met Elizabeth once again beside her friend Miss Lucas and Mr. Collins offered his humble and servile opinion about Darcy's fine attire, the decor of the hall, and the selection of wine on offer. Elizabeth stood meekly beside Mr. Collins and her embarrassed blush made him frown.

"Thank you, Mr. Collins," he said, cutting off the man in mid-stream. "It is time for our dance. Miss Elizabeth?"

Mr. Collins effused to Miss Lucas on Darcy's polite manners and grace as they walked away. It did not make him feel ill as it normally would, only grateful that he had taken Elizabeth away from it.

They stood opposite each other and Darcy looked at Elizabeth, slightly disappointed that her gaze was taking in the expressions of their neighbors. They stood for some time quiet and Darcy imagined that they were the only two in the hall, they were free of all relations, friends, and acquaintances. The candle flames illuminated the colors in her dark hair and lit her with a light that highlighted her high cheekbones and the curve to her lips. He watched her eyes, that glimmer of laughter for the ridiculousness, as she said something about the dance. He replied that it was a fine dance, his lips twitching as her eyes flashed with irritation that he was not holding up to the social bargain that was a dance.

"It is _your_ turn to say something now, Mr. Darcy. I talked about the dance, and you ought to make some kind of remark on the size of the room or the number of couples."

"Whatever you wish me to say should be said," he assured her.

She sniffed. "Very well. That reply will do for the present. Perhaps by and by I may observe that private balls are much pleasanter than public ones. But now we may be silent."

"Do you talk by rule then while you are dancing?"

That Elizabeth thought him of an unsocial, taciturn disposition, unwilling to speak unless he had something to say that would amaze the whole room, did not surprise him. But Darcy did not like to suffer tiresome people and so either avoided them or ignored the social manners that required him to speak to them. Privately, he thought, he was more than willing to speak on any topic.

They reached another silence and, believing that Elizabeth meant to scold him on not speaking during the dance, he bowed to social duty and asked if she and her sisters did not often walk to Meryton.

"We do. When you met us there the other day, we had just been forming a new acquaintance."

Darcy's face warmed as he took in her expression. His fears were confirmed that Elizabeth had been taken in by the scoundrel just like many of the women in Lambton had been. Darcy had been forced to clean up Wickham's mess there, too, to stop the ruination of many of the eligible ladies in the town. He left a path of destruction in his wake and Meryton would be no different, though he hoped that Elizabeth would have enough sense to avoid him.

"Mr. Wickham is blessed with such happy manners as may ensure his _making_ friends—whether he may be equally capable of _retaining_ them is less certain."

That Elizabeth had been taken in by his charm and style, that was unexpected and unwanted. A powerful emotion had taken presence in his chest as he saw the glitter of just anger in her eyes. This village, just like all the others, would be ruined by Wickham's presence, saddled with debt and corrupted daughters, and like always the townspeople welcomed it because of a pretty face and amiable manners. Elizabeth, like the other people who had been robbed by Wickham's presence, would first only speak in defense for Wickham. Then they would only speak of their stupidity in trusting him.

"Miss Elizabeth, I fear that you have heard one side of the story. Through no fault of your own," he added when he saw her brows raise with contempt for his condescending tone.

"I have seen the illustrations of your character," she said, and then her face twisted into an unhappy expression. "Though I have seen and heard such different accounts of you as puzzle me exceedingly."

"I can readily believe that report may vary greatly with respect to me," he said. "I do wish you would trust your own eyes to sketch my character, though not at the present moment as there is reason to fear that the performance would reflect no credit on either."

"But if I do not take your likeness now, I may never have another opportunity."

His voice grew cold. "I would by no means suspend any pleasure of yours."

So she meant to paint him negatively in her eyes, Wickham's words had done much to convince her of Darcy's guilt in whatever lies he had spun. Dissatisfaction cold in his chest, they finished the remainder of the dance in silence, and Darcy wished that he could easily return to Pemberley and nurse his wounds until he was better suited to company. Alas, he was to stand up for Bingley, and there would be no discussion of Darcy leaving until the happy deed was done.

Unable to suspend his discomfiture, Darcy could think of no other topic they could speak about except books. However, when he pursued the topic, Elizabeth had already distanced herself from him, and they spent the remainder of their dance in silence.

After he returned Elizabeth to her friends, resenting the distance that Wickham had put between them when the man wasn't even present at the ball, he left for the peace of the study. He paced around the room, a whiskey in his hand that quenched the need in his throat, and wondered what he would have to do. He could not admit to Georgiana's painful secret, though he knew Elizabeth would hear him with a kind ear. But he also could not allow that man to hurt another woman he valued.

 _That I do value her is certain and not something I can deny any longer. I couldn't deny it the moment our futures became entwined by her sister's betrothal to Bingley._

He turned as the door opened and stiffened when he met Elizabeth's eye. Her shock at seeing him in such an unexpected place was as clear as his own and she bowed her head.

"I do apologize, sir. I wished to find somewhere quiet."

She began backing away, pulling the door closed behind her, when he spoke, "Do not mind me, Miss Elizabeth. I sought the solitude myself."

"Then all the better that I stop trespassing on your solitude, Mr. Darcy." The air of playful impertinence in her tone rallied his spirits.

He bowed. "I insist. Please," he added when she appeared willing to walk away.

She hesitated, thoughts going across her face too fast to catch, and then nodded and crossed to the chair beside the fire. She sat and folded her arms in front of her chest, a flush riding up her cheeks. Darcy looked away, not eager to look like a besotted child.

He intended to resume his pacing, his plan to woo Elizabeth, but found he could not assemble any sort of orderly thought with her in the room. She lacked nothing but a fortune to be one of the highest ladies in society with her easy grace and manners, the gentleness of her words and the sharpness of her wit. Not for the first time, Darcy wondered what spell she had cast to make him so bewitched with her.

At least she would be safe from fortune hunters like Wickham.

Darcy swallowed the last of his whiskey too quickly and coughed. Embarrassment heated his cheeks as Elizabeth glanced over at him, her eyebrows raised.

"I am not too fond of this label," he said to cover his gaffe.

"Or it is not too fond of you," she said.

He smiled despite the embarrassment he would have felt at any other woman pointing out his flaws and walked back to the cabinet. There was something about the woman's air that made a comment that should sting into a comment of shared amusement. He hadn't known a woman to laugh as much at herself as well as others. He poured himself a second and, considering, poured Elizabeth a finger.

"Oh, no, I couldn't drink whiskey," she said as he attempted to hand it to her.

"For me, then," he said. "So that I do not have the displeasure to drink alone."

She took it, but her face was arranged in disbelief. "You did not see any harm in it before I came along."

"I did not have such good company," he said before he could stop himself. But the modest truth was worth seeing her eyes widen and being able to admire the jewels in her hair as she shifted. His self-deprecating insult was rewarded with her soft laughter and the dancing of her eyes as she looked at him over the rim of her glass.

"I must confess that I did not expect that level of awareness from you, Mr. Darcy. You do insist on confounding my ability to sketch your character, a most vexing trait of yours!"

He inclined his head. "Should I remain unchangeable in order to satisfy your desire?"

"While that would be the gentlemanly thing to do, alas, I cannot insist upon forcing you into a mold that you do not claim willingly."

Darcy sat across from her and marveled upon his and Bingley's luck to find two women so well-matched for them in such a silly family. His gaze was drawn to the curve of Elizabeth's neck as she tilted her head to return his measured stare. A moment passed in which the crackling of the untended coals in the grate was the only noise, and then Elizabeth glanced away with her own embarrassment. She took a hasty sip and then spluttered.

Darcy's laughter echoed in the room as she spit the whiskey across the rug. Her shocked face, the mortification blooming red across her face and down her ample décolletage. In moments, Elizabeth was laughing too, her head thrown back, her laughter rich and _right._

"Forgive me for not listening to you," he said between chuckles as he reached across the space between them to take the glass.

"N-No, sir," she said, holding it out of his reach. She wiped her eyes with her free hand and then shook her head at the mess she had made upon the rug. "Poor Miss Bingley. She will not be happy when she learns what I've done."

"Miss Bingley does not need to know," Darcy said, "as I am sure Charles has spilled much worse on it in our time here and she is sure to blame him."

"Mr. Bingley takes it with all good grace, I expect." She raised her glass to eye level and peered at it sternly before taking a sip. Though she grimaced, she managed to swallow it instead of pouring it on the ground. "I once envied a gentleman's ability to exit a busy room to enjoy a glass of whiskey. Now I find myself rethinking this jealousy."

"With sufficient exposure, you too would become fond of it." He took a drink of his own to prove a point, and then grimaced himself. "The taste of this one does leave something to be desired. You must tell your sister to replace this once she is mistress here."

"Should I instruct her to replace the liquor cabinet before or after I give her my happy felicitations on her marriage?"

"After the ceremony will do," said Darcy. He admired the glint of enjoyment in her eyes as they volleyed conversation back and forth. He had never admired a creature more than he admired Elizabeth Bennet. Her smile was enough to melt the cold exterior he put in place to deter the fortune hunters and the town mamas. She had inserted herself into his heart without him knowing the moment. Elizabeth Bennet, the woman who could make Fitzwilliam Darcy see himself with but a few sentences. Elizabeth Bennet, for whom he had hidden in a bush to hear her private thoughts about him.

Then Elizabeth's eyes shuttered, all teasing and amusement lost, and she returned her gaze to the fireplace.

"What is wrong?" he asked before he could think more on what he said. He only knew that he felt the loss of her attention like a blow to the solar plexus.

Her dimple showed as she turned up the corner of her mouth, but the motion had no real humor behind it. "Please do not mind me. I am in a queer mood despite the festivities."

"I understand," he murmured as her somber mood crept over him. He turned his eye to he embers left glowing in the grate. "It is the same reason I escaped the chatter and mirth of the ball."

He felt her attention return to him. "Then I am sorry I thought so little of you, Mr. Darcy, for believing that you were avoiding the dance due to your disinclination for assemblies of this sort."

"That too," he admitted with a smile to lessen the bite to his words. His heart clenched at the disappointment that flickered in her expression, the knowledge that she had wanted to believe that he was more than a man with ill manners and a distaste for the country manners in Hertfordshire. Unwilling to let go of their quiet conversation and return to the chilly distance that had separated them during their dance, he choked down the sharp reluctance in his throat and said, "But my mind is taken up with what you said to me during our dance, Miss Elizabeth."

Her frozen expression clued him into her regret of her words. "I apologize, sir. Speaking out of turn is a bad habit I have yet to rid myself of."

"You have no need to apologize," he said. "With what Mr. Wickham must have represented to you—it shows only your kindness of heart and only seeks to recommend you."

She did not respond right away, pulling her gaze from his to consider her glass. He itched to go further, but the thought of Georgiana held his tongue.

"He…" She drew off with a pensive air, and then she shook her head like a horse shaking off an intruding fly. "Mr. Wickham did attempt to cause harm to your character to me once he knew we had an affiliation. I cannot say that, after observing your character these months, that I was not taken in to some extent."

Pain pierced his chest at her words and he had to turn his head away so he did not say something unfortunate.

"And your response to my impertinent questions only confuses me further!" she exclaimed. "Please, Mr. Darcy. I feel as though I am underwater and do not know which direction I should swim!"

He swallowed at the sincerity in her voice and admired the courage it must have taken for her to admit her own confusion. But he could not tell Georgiana's tale.

"You will believe what you will," he said as he stood. "Good evening, Miss Elizabeth. You will no longer have to _suffer_ my presence— _or_ Wickham's. I will see to him."


End file.
